


Mama Mama Help Me Home - Mama Mama I’m Dead - Mama Mama This World Is Too Cold

by BeHappyWithTheLittleThings



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Blood and Gore, Vaguely inspired by twilight, bella is the girl, but I promise it is better than twilights werewolves and vampires, horror story, my mind is as messed up as this story is, never ending loop, poetry inspired, the invalid is Edward, the others match, though that’s not hard to accomplish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24674923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeHappyWithTheLittleThings/pseuds/BeHappyWithTheLittleThings
Summary: “I’m out in the woods, I am out on my own.” The voice is so sad, so unlike a child’s voice. She stumbles, leaning against a nearby tree for support. Her head is spinning with the effect of the blood loss. She starts collapsing, her nails dig into the bark trying to hold her up.“I was stopped by a vampire, a rotting old wreck,” This voice sends an even worse nightmare, this one sending bile up her throat, and she struggles to swallow it back down. It’s standing there, pale and so very dead. It’s skins is moldy and hanging off in many different places. Bones poke through organs, hair barely hangs onto his scalp, and with every step, every movement there is a sickening squelch as ribs smash into his guts. It’s face is twist itself into a snarl, ripping even more skin off its cheeks.
Kudos: 1





	Mama Mama Help Me Home - Mama Mama I’m Dead - Mama Mama This World Is Too Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the poem  
> “Mama, Mama, help me get home,  
> I’m out in the woods, I am out on my own,  
> I found me a werewolf, a nasty old mutt,  
> It showed me its teeth, and went straight for my gut,  
> Mama, Mama, help me get home,  
> I’m out in the woods, I am out on my own,  
> I was stopped by a vampire, a rotting old wreck,  
> It showed me its fangs, and went straight for my neck,  
> Mama, Mama, put me to bed,  
> I won’t make it home, I’m already half dead,  
> I met an Invalid, and fell for his art,  
> He showed me his smile, and went straight for my heart”

She stumbles forward, running so clumsily she leaves a trail of destruction and splattered paint. Destruction is all that follows her, her poor little heart can’t figure out why. She passes windows, closed and locking her from the freedom of the woods. She manages to get to the door, fumbling with the lock before throwing it wide. She’s free, her ribs no longer caging her heart and breath and they both rush back to her. Her head tips back and her eyes seek out the stars. Her head, her heart, her veins, her very being sings with the thought of being uncaged, her thoughts unhinged. Her feet stumble along, cold and mud caked, but she refuses to go back into that house, that cage, even if it's to get shoes. Soon bark becomes her walls and the leaves become the ceiling, and there’s moss in her carpet. Her breath is clouding, her lips blue as she pushes forward. Her shaky fingers brush away stray branches and her frozen feet kick away rocks, too numb to feel pain.  
“Mama, Mama, help me get home,” the voice is lilting and slow and she shivers, first from the cold and then a shiver not from the cold at all. Her thoughts race, her breathing picking up speed as she stares into the darkness, trying to find the voice but seeing nobody.  
Her heart throbs, “Bump Ba, Bump Ba, Bump Ba.” She can hear the blood rush into her ears making them ring. She claws at her ears, trying to get them to shut up, shut up, shut up!  
“I’m out in the woods, I am out on my own.” The voice whispers its way through the forest, drifting through the trees and leaves. She pivots, her feet leaves deep grooves in the mud. Her blood runs cold, her body frozen. She’s stuck, her heart stuttering in shock even as her brain tells her to run, run, run.  
“I found me a werewolf, a nasty old mutt,” The voice makes fear roll through her pounding blood. Her eyes were wide, whites showing with fear. Her feet pound against the dirt as she whips around and bolts, trying to get away from the monster just feet behind her.  
“It showed me its teeth and went straight for my gut” The voice is taunting now about how she is doomed, she asked for freedom now she’s starting to pay the price. She’s not fast enough, not strong enough, to outrun an animal. Soon, she feels the teeth burrow into the soft flesh of her stomach, breaking bones and tearing through organs. She screams as blood gushes from her stomach, pooling around her as she collapsed to the ground. The wolf is gone as soon as it had came, disappearing and leaving pain and blood in its place. She’s so cold, the blood and mud making her even colder as the wind howls around her.  
Her heart still pounds on, the adrenaline and fear making it beat faster, “BADUM-BADUM-BADUM.” The voice is back though, that sweet voice bringing the promise of more monsters, more pain.  
“Mama, Mama, help me get home,” It’s a child’s voice now, younger than her even. She rolls onto her side, using her hands to push her up. She wobbles on her feet, the blood loss taking its toll. She pulls her hands off the ground and they’re dripping with blood, her whole body is coated in the red sticky substance.  
“I’m out in the woods, I am out on my own.” The voice is so sad, so unlike a child’s voice. She stumbles, leaning against a nearby tree for support. Her head is spinning with the effect of the blood loss. She starts collapsing, her nails dig into the bark trying to hold her up.  
“I was stopped by a vampire, a rotting old wreck,” This voice sends an even worse nightmare, this one sending bile up her throat, and she struggles to swallow it back down. It’s standing there, pale and so very dead. It’s skins is moldy and hanging off in many different places. Bones poke through organs, hair barely hangs onto his scalp, and with every step, every movement there is a sickening squelch as ribs smash into his guts. It’s face is twist itself into a snarl, ripping even more skin off its cheeks.  
“It showed me its fangs and went straight for my neck.” The voice is dripping in childlike happiness now, taking pleasure in the horror that stretches over her pale face. Her teeth are chattering with the cold now, her fingers bleeding with the effort of hanging to the bark of the tree. She lets go of the bark and reaches for branches, practically throwing herself forward. The first step forward wrenches a scream from her mouth, and she would have collapsed had it not grabbed her. Its skin is wet and soggy, leaving some type of slime dripping from her blood soaked arms. There’s several awful sounds as the weight of her causes the skin to slide away from its bone and she drops into the mud. She whimpers as she lands on her wounded stomach, reopening the wound and causing blood to spill everywhere. Before she can even look back at it, she can feel its fangs sink into her skin, cutting through the artery in her throat. There was a nauseating sound, like the sound a straw makes when it sucks up the last bit of water, as the fangs fight to suck up blood before it spills on the floor. Bile rises is her throat and she violently swallows it back down. It disappears as fast as the werewolf did, leaving behind a new pain and the feeling of emptiness. Her head falls back against the blood spattered dirt. The bile finds its way up her throat and out her mouth, simply spilling messily against her lips since she doesn’t have the strength to even roll to the side. Her body aches at effort it takes to expel all the stomach acids. Bile mixes with the blood that drenches her shirt, her face. She weakly lifts her fingers to her face to clear it away from her nose because it was causing her already choppy breathing to slow even more. The wind picks up, chilling the blood and mud, and sends a violent shiver up her spine. She digs her fingers into the dirt, trying desperately to haul herself up.  
The heartbeat that beat once was so strong in her cage of ribs now beats a slow “Ba...Bum...Ba...Bum…” With every pause her breath catches with worry, not knowing if it would start back up. Her fingers are limp now, her body lax. A broken cry escapes her lips, a wounded call for help, for peace, for death or life just something other than pain and nausea and cold. She musters all the strength she has to roll onto her stomach, the pure effort in that alone leaving her even more pale and sweaty. She collapses on her stomach, her mouth unhinged to give an agonizing shriek and a low moan of pain.  
“Mama, Mama, put me to bed,” The voice is of her mom now, so kind and gentle.  
“Mommy?” is whispered from her cracked lips, so soft it disappears into the wind. “Mommy. Mommy please, Mommy help. MOMMY HELP ME, PLEASE MOMMY PLEASE!” By the end of it she’s yelling to the wind, knowing in the back of her mind that the words won’t reach her but clinging to the hopes that she will. She wants, needs someone to save her, to heal her, to love her as the small child she is. She lays there panting and starts to bawl. Her body racks as sobs work there way up her throat, as tears pour from her eyes, as her small broken body crumples in the pain that her sorrow is causing but she can’t stop, can’t stop at all. Soon everything slows down her heart, her breath, her gut wrenching sobs.  
“I won’t make it home, I’m already half dead.” Darkness lines her vision, making it even harder to see through the blur of tears as she struggles to make out what the voice had said to her. She struggles to move and finds herself almost paralyzed. Terror claws its way up her stomach to her throat but she’s too tired to cry and all that comes out is a strangled hiccup. The last thing she sees is a old mans face before the darkness washes over her.  
“I met an Invalid, and fell for its art.” The voice is musical, like her mom was singing her a lullaby. She peeled open her eyes, light from a fire nearly blinding her sore eyes. She was in a small cabin made completely from rich wood. She laying on a pine green couch with glazed wood armrest. An old man sits on a nearby rocking chair, his head hung pressing his chin to his chest. Paintings litter the walls, some strewn across the coffee table separating us. Paint bottles are crowded on the edge of the table, paint mixes with other colors on a nearby palette and a gust of wind sends a bottle tipping over, blood red paint dripping onto the floor. The paint leaves a growing crimson stain on top of a many others of every color. The old man startled awake, spilling more bottles of paint. Blues and yellow clashes with the crimson puddle on the floor. He stood up, ignoring the broken bleeding girl on the couch. She tries to speak, to say thank you but her mouth is too dry, her throat scratchy. The man hums as his knobby old knees bend and he walks towards the kitchen, leaving only a merry tune behind him. Clanks and crashes resound from the kitchen as the man digs around in the cupboard. The young girl shifts, whimpering as her stomach wound opens up once again, blood dripping to mix with the spilled paint. The floorboards creak in the house as the old man stumbles back into the room. He drops down into a chair beside the couch she resides on, still humming that merry tune. He brushes blood soaked hair away from her face and she leans into the safety the touch brings.  
“He showed me his smile and went straight for my heart.” He leans over, his breath brushing her ear.  
“It’s never over,” He breathes, “never over.” She startles, trying to move, to escape, to run. She can’t, her wounds hurt and her head pounds. All she can do is whimper. Her eyes widen with fear, whites showing and her barely there breathing picks up. A knife slips out of his sleeve, plunging down into her heart. Her vision darkens and blood rises into her throat, mixing with the bile. She chokes trying to breathe, to escape and find her mommy. The last thing she sees is that grandfatherly smile that curls on his face turn into a viscous smirk. “See ya soon, young un’” were the last thing she heard before the darkness took over.  
She wakes up and she’s on the couch still. The old man is gone, along with her wounds. Her eyes widen with dread as she realized she’s alone. She stands up, brushing away the blanket over top of her. She stumbles forward, running so clumsily she leaves a trail of destruction and splattered paint. Destruction is all that follows her, her poor little heart can’t figure out why. She passes windows, closed and locking her from the freedom of the woods. She manages to get to the door, fumbling with the lock before throwing it wide. She’s free, her ribs no longer caging her heart and breath and they both rush back to her. Her head tips back and her eyes seek out the stars. Her head, her heart, her veins, her very being sings with the thought of being uncaged, her thoughts unhinged. Her feet stumble along, cold and mud caked, but she refuses to go back into that house, that cage, even if it's to get shoes. Soon bark becomes her walls and the leaves become the ceiling, and there’s moss in her carpet. Her breath is clouding, her lips blue as she pushes forward. Her shaky fingers brush away stray branches and her frozen feet kick away rocks, too numb to feel pain.  
“Mama, Mama, help me get home,” the voice is lilting and slow and she shivers, first from the cold and then a shiver not from the cold at all. Her thoughts race, her breathing picking up speed as she stares into the darkness, trying to find the voice but seeing nobody.  
Her heart throbs, “Bump Ba, Bump Ba, Bump Ba.” She can hear the blood rush into her ears making them ring. She claws at her ears, trying to get them to shut up, shut up, shut up!  
“I’m out in the woods, I am out on my own.” The voice whispers its way through the forest, drifting through the trees and leaves. She pivots, her feet leaves deep grooves in the mud. Her blood runs cold, her body frozen. She’s stuck, her heart frozen in shock even as her brain tells her to run, run, run.  
“I found me a werewolf, a nasty old mutt,”  
“Help.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please leave constructive criticism and a comment


End file.
